


Don't Jinx It

by Catchclaw



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Denial of Feelings, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining while fucking, Schmoop, Second Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24416530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: It doesn’t count if you don’t talk about it. That’s always been Han’s favorite rule.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 241





	Don't Jinx It

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Friends with benefits and cuddling.

It doesn’t count if you don’t talk about it. That’s always been Han’s favorite rule.

It’s not smuggling if all you do is open your cargo hold and point. It’s not a bribe if you can right a bad conversation with some scummy prick by casually pulling out a handful of credits and slipping them on the table without a word, just within the prick’s reach. And it’s not anything to lose sleep over where the Empire’s concerned if you cross their path accidentally and manage to get away without shooting anything. The ‘troopers only worry about you, after all, if you upset their bucket of bolts.

He gets this. Why the kriff doesn’t Luke?

“Han, I had a clear shot.”

“I get that, kid, but some things are more important right now.”

A blond huff and the weight of two gangly arms on the back of his seat. “Hmph. Like what?”

“Like us getting out of there in one piece, which hello, you’re welcome, we’ve done.”

“But that TIE’s gonna tell somebody he saw us.”

Han shrugs and flips off the secondary hyperdrive capacitor. “No kidding. He’d done that before you got a lock on, believe me. All shooting him would’ve done was pissed him off and personally, as much as I love kicking a nest of vipa-bees, I’d much prefer not getting stung if I don’t have to.”

Chewie rumbles his agreement. Luke just pouts louder.

“Next time,” he announces, “I won’t ask for your permission, I’ll just take the shot.”

When Han turns his head, the kid’s still hanging on the back of his chair, face flushed and full of righteous indignation. Spoiling for a fucking fight, as usual. “Oh no, you won’t. This is my ship, and if you want to stay on it for the foreseeable future, you’ll follow my rules.”

“Or what?”

“Or,” Han says, bright and friendly as a blade, “I’ll dump you off at the next port we pass and you can find some other jockey to take you chasing space ghosts, ok?”

Later, when the lights in his cabin are off and Luke is beneath him, bare-skinned and desperate, making urgent sounds that say more than any words, Han hears himself in his head: _I’ll dump you off_. Ha. Not fucking likely. He shoves in harder and finds Luke’s mouth and preens when the kid wails, his palms curled tight around Han’s ass and his legs vined around Han’s waist and when he comes, it’s in a loud, frantic rush and only then does Han let himself go and pound as hard as he can until his balls are empty Luke is giggling in his ear, soft and silly and sated.

“Oh, Han,” he breathes, stroking the swell of Han’s back. “Oh. That feels so good.”

It doesn’t count, though, what happens between them in the dark, in those moments few and fleeting when nobody’s trying to kill them, when all that hooey about the Force isn’t in the way, when there’s no money to be lost or job to be done--what they are to each other then doesn’t need to said, as far as Han is concerned. There’s no need to do that.

It was after they’d rescued Leia, the first time it’d happened. They’d known each other all of a day. As far as Han knew, Luke had been a virgin; he’d certainly come like one, with just a handful of kisses and a firm, knowing grip, shuddering as he spurted with his back against the _Falcon’s_ bulkhead, Han jammed close at his front. After, Luke had reached for Han’s fly and kissed him shly and not said a word and by god, had Han liked it like that.

It didn’t count.

Then at the base before the Battle of Yavin, Luke had taken him by the wrist and Han had trailed behind and they’d landed in an empty room with a thin, dusty bed. Luke had slick in his pocket and durasteel in his pants and he’d been so tight inside Han had nearly cried. But it was Luke who’d shed tears, who’d rolled on top of Han before he’d really caught his breath and asked without asking for Han to fuck him again. And he had, after a time; he’d kept Luke where he was and pushed in and up and Luke had taken him, those blue eyes like pulsars, and splashed heat on his chest, wild-eyed.

They hadn’t said anything when it was over, when they parted for what might’ve been the last time. So it didn’t count.

And it didn’t count on Hoth, either, after Luke was an idiot and didn’t die and Han crawled into his bed while he still smelled of bacta and touched every part of him, every new goddamn scar, until Luke had pounded Han’s shoulders and lifted his hips and gotten what he wanted, at last.

No, it didn’t count then, even though Han had said:

“Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?” He’d ducked his head and bit at the kid’s throat, still tucked up inside, ears still ringing from Luke’s pretty screams. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. I thought you were dead. I _knew_ you were dead. Fuck, I don’t know what I’d have done if you were--”

Then they’d been kissing and he’d been coming and he hadn’t had room to say the rest, which was good. Because he shouldn’t. Because if he said how he was feeling, what he wanted, then the bubble would burst, wouldn’t it, because that’s what always happened, and none of what was so good between them would count.

“I don’t like arguing with you,” Luke says now, his head hot against Han’s chest, the soft hum of the _Falcon_ around them.

“Simple solution for that, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t do it.” He pets at Luke’s neck. “Accept the irrefutable fact that 99.5% of the time, I’m right.”

“No, you’re not. You just think you’re right. That’s not the same thing.”

“Pffft, I am right. You’re just too stubborn to admit it. That, or you thrown off your speeder too many times as a kid.”

“Han.”

“What? Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.” Luke sits up a little, enough so Han can get a look at his face. It’s still all pretty and flushed. “There, how was that?”

“Meh,” Han says. He’s smiling like an idiot. He doesn’t care. “Saying it doesn’t make it so.”

“Sometimes it does.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The kid touches Han’s mouth. “You want an example?”

He licks at those blunt, perfect fingers, smirks when Luke squeaks. “Mmmm.” 

“For example, um, when we--I mean, I kind of hope it’s obvious, but.” Luke draws in a deep breath and then lets it out quick. “I love being with you like this.”

Han’s heart screeches to a halt. Starts again, the first pump after a jolt. “You, ah. You do?”

“Yeah.” The kid’s eyelashes touch his cheeks, red again, fiercer. “I hope you don’t mind me saying that."

He tries to keep his voice light. “Why would I mind? I had a pretty strong impression that you weren’t opposed. You coming like that on my dick’ll do that.”

Luke swallows. “It’s not just the sex, though. That’s what I’m trying to say. I mean, the sex is--”

“Amazing? Life-changing? A transcendental experience?”

That gets the kid’s eyes back on him--and rolling, no less. “Han. Come on.”

“Come on what?” He spears a hand in Luke’s hair and gets a grip on his waist, turns them over, pressing Luke back into the messy sheets. His head is a roil and he’s afraid, suddenly. Fuck he’s so afraid; wants to say: _Don’t go there, kid. Shut up. Don’t jinx it._ “You don’t like it when I fuck you? Since when?”

Luke’s arms are around his neck. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Ohhh. What would you rather have in there, huh?” He arches his hips, rubs himself against the place where Luke’s soft and wet. “I got a suggestion. Or maybe you’d rather have me stick it in here.”

“Han,” Luke says. His voice is reedy and Han can feel the urgency in Luke’s body again, the way his cock’s starting to rise against his belly. “Damn it, it’s more than that.”

 _Don’t go there. Shut up. Don’t jinx it_. It’s a litany now, a drumbeat. He dips his head and laps at the sweet of Luke’s mouth. “Spread your knees, baby. Let me in.”

And Luke does, because his body knows Han’s and Han’s knows his and they can just stay here forever locked together, can’t they? Here in this bed, in tune, not talking about this gorgeous and terrifying thing between them, just living it, over and over, Empire and Rebellion be damned. Yeah, they can.

“ _Han_.” Luke’s voice is tattered shimmersilk.

“Shhh, baby. I’ve got you.” And he does. Oh, he does.

“Han, please!”

“Like that?” He moves in deeper, rising up on his knees and watching himself press it in, watching Luke take him and writhe. “Tell me, sweetheart. You gotta talk to me. Does it feel good, like this?”

“Always feels good when you’re inside me,” Luke pants. “I love the way you fuck me.”

He groans, feels Luke fluttering around him, that sense of urgency building in his gut. “Yeah? You do?”

“Yeah,” Luke breathes. “I love you.”

“Fuck,” Han stutters against his better judgement, because of it. “Fuck, Luke. Love you, too.”

So it counts this time, every second; every kiss, every moan, every push. It counts because they’ve said it, because it’s out in the open, because they mean it.

No, it counts because they want it to, because they’ve decided that it does, and yeah, maybe that means the universe will take it away, okay, but apparently that’s yet another risk associated with a desert boy from nowhere that Han is willing to take and when Luke comes, his cock in his fist and his eyes locked in Han’s wearing nothing short of wonder, Han knows it’s the best decision he’ll ever make.

_Don't go there. Shut up. Don't jinx it._

"Yeah, well," Han whispers later into the damp nest of the kid's hair, Luke's smile pressed against Han's neck as he sleeps, "too late."


End file.
